


Gabriel on Top

by TrickyJerseyGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Gabriel is a Little Shit, Gabriel is a Tease, Gabriel is dominant, Het Sex, Light BDSM, PWP, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 15:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10744224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickyJerseyGirl/pseuds/TrickyJerseyGirl
Summary: Gabriel's new chair looks a bit like a throne. Tia serves at the pleasure of the king.





	Gabriel on Top

**Author's Note:**

> Super light bdsm that I may have screwed up. First time writing this kind of thing. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

For once, it was him who had found the piece of furniture. It was an old, red velvet armchair in the Victorian style, with intricately carved dark wood legs. He’d gotten it for a steal at a fire sale in an old hotel, and Tia had been both impressed by and jealous of his bargaining skills. Since they’d started furnishing the house, it had usually been her who found the amazing antiques for a fraction of what they were worth, so he was feeling pretty damn proud of himself at having grabbed this for little more than $40 and a charming smile. He’d set it up in the living room, just diagonal to the fireplace, and he hadn’t stopped sitting in it since he put it in place.

Tia was sitting on the plush oriental carpet, paint swatches and blueprints spread out before her. She had a glass of wine at hand and was making notes, thinking--he had no doubt--about the next project she was going to spring on him. Probably one involving the extra set of servant’s stairs she’d spotted on the blueprints, which appeared to be hidden behind the wall in one of the guest rooms. There were other passages as well, some of which they’d already started restoring. It was hard work and she preferred him to use a hammer and nails rather than a snap of his fingers. But it was worth it--this was not just a house. It was their house. Their home. Plus she had a thing for a man in a toolbelt, and since it was a thing he was awfully fond of, he didn’t mind. And frankly if this project inspired her the way the last one did, he was all for it. He’d had on the toolbelt, and he was sweating and covered in drywall dust, sledgehammer in his hands as he broke through a wall to reveal a marble fireplace in the room that would be the library. He’d called her in to show her. Maybe it was the fireplace. Maybe it was the toolbelt or the sweat or whatever, because she'd grabbed him and before long he wasn’t wearing much more than the toolbelt. He had nearly put her through what was left of the wall. It took two showers to get all the dust out of both their hair. Worth it. So worth it.

Gabriel shifted a little uncomfortably in his chair--the memory was a vivid one--and she looked up when she heard him move. She smiled. “You look good in that chair, sugar. Very regal.”

“Yeah?” he said with a grin. “I like the sound of that. You wanna be my loyal subject?”

She shrugged. “Always thought of myself as more of a royal consort.”

“Not queen?”

She winked at him. “Don’t need the crown if I’ve got the royal jewels in the palm of my hand.” She crawled over to him, and he felt a pleasant warmth spread through his body as he watched her, felt it growing a little warmer when she put her hands on his knees and looked up at him. “Pretty sure I can run a kingdom if I handle those the right way.”

“Pretty sure you could run a planet.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “That crawling thing was kinda hot.”

“I serve at the pleasure of the king.” She licked her lips and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

“You do not.., wait, do you?” This was new. A little unlike her, but shit, he was game. More than game.

She sat back on her heels and folded her hands in her lap. “If you like.”

Oh, he liked. “You sure about this, babe? Because if you are…”

She leaned up again and kissed him. “Shut up and play with me.”

His grin grew wider and he gave her ass a slap. “That’s the last time you’ll be talking to me like that for a while. But before we get started, you want a safe word or do you want to just open a channel?”

“Channel’s fine,” she said, referring to the psychic link they shared. “If I think you’re going too far, you’ll know.”

That was for damn sure. “That’s my girl.” He leaned back in his chair. “Stand up. Turn around for me. Slowly.”

She was standing in front of him, her eyes dark, pupils already blown wide with lust. Christ, she was gorgeous. He made a motion with his hand. “Do what I say. Now.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, just a little, and he stifled a smile. She’d play, and they’d both enjoy the hell out of it, but even though she was his Gigi, she was also her own Tia, always. He wouldn’t have it any other way. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t loving this rare opportunity, and he was definitely going to use it for all it was worth. “Again,” he said. “And slower. I want time to look at every bit of you so I can decide what I want next.”

She took a few slow steps back, then turned gracefully in place. She was wearing a loose button down shirt and tight black jeans; her feet were bare. He had an idea.

“Come here,” he said. “Stand right before me.” She did and he leaned forward. “I’m going to take off your clothes. Don’t move unless I say and don’t say a word. Do you understand me?”

She bit her lip and nodded.

“Good. Lean down.”

She did. He unbuttoned her shirt slowly, then opened it and ran his hands over her stomach, his fingers over her ribs. The muscles there twitched at his touch; as he pushed the shirt off her shoulders, he trailed his fingers down her spine. She bit her lip again and let out a soft moan; he chuckled.

“Stand up straight,” he said. Once she did, he reached forward to open her jeans and move them carefully down her legs, tapping her legs to let her know to step out of the jeans. Then he leaned back again to look at her in her black lace bra and matching panties, all long legs and smooth, fine muscles, her breasts round and perfect, like they were made exactly to fit in the palm of his hand. He wanted to lay her down right there, put his hands and his mouth all over her body and feel her pressed against him. But he wouldn’t. Not yet. “Dance for me.”

Her brow furrowed. She looked around the room, then back at him. She shrugged her shoulders and he heard in his head, A little help, maestro?

He smirked, and snapped his fingers.

He was still in his chair. She, however, was no longer on the living room rug. Instead, she was on a spot lit stage, complete with mirror ball. And pole. She laughed outright, grabbing the pole for a quick, experimental spin.

He snapped again and music started, a sultry beat at a medium tempo. She's worked her way through school like this, and kept at it when she started hunting. She had made good money at it and he'd always wondered how good she'd really been. “Dance,” he said. “Keep everything on. And if you want me to get around to taking the rest of it off, you're going to have to earn it.”

Now it was her turn to smirk. Make it rain, sucker.

“That’s Mr. Sucker to you. Get to it.”

She went to the pole first. She had told him stories of her dancing days and how she’d made a (fake) name for herself as a featured performer for a few years. But he often wondered if there was some exaggeration there. As soon as she started climbing, he knew there wasn’t, and he congratulated himself on a fantastic idea.

Tia pulled herself up the pole and wrapped her legs around it. Gabriel could see the tension in her thighs and he let out a small gasp when she let go with her hands and hung upside down, in perfect control of her body. She arched, twisted, grabbed with two hands and swung her legs out to wrap around so she could revolve her body around the pole. She slid halfway down in that position, then another arch, another twist, and now she sliding again, in a perfect fireman’s slide back to the ground.

And that’s where she really put on the show. He knew she was strong. He knew she was flexible. He knew she was graceful. But he’d never seen the combination displayed quite like this. He realized as he watched her that it had been years since she had danced with any regularity, and if she was still this good, he no longer doubted how she had made enough money to put herself through school and set up a more-than-comfortable nest egg that had kept her very solvent, a rarity for a hunter. He’d been to his share of strip clubs and he knew that if he’d seen her dance like this in club, he’d have been showering the stage with cash.

She crawled to the very edge of the stage, then lay on her back with her head hanging just off it, her long hair nearly brushing the ground. She gripped the edge of the stage with her hands and executed a backward flip onto the floor just as the song changed, and she began moving toward him. Her expression was almost predatory, and he seriously wondered how long he was going to be able to maintain this whole dominance thing, because they’d barely begun and again he just wanted to take her right there, right then.

But he wouldn’t. At least, not before his lap dance was through.

His chair was not the best for said lap dance, but she made it work. It was sturdy, so she used the back and the arms for leverage and balance. She slid. She slithered. She moved and bumped and grinded. Her skin was glowing with a fine sheen of sweat. The song was winding down and so was she, right onto his thighs and leaning back against his chest. He put his hand in her hair and gripped, pulling her head back and baring her neck. He ran his tongue along the tendon there and up to her ear, where he whispered, “I think that’s enough dancing, gorgeous girl.” He snapped his fingers.

They were back in the living room. An ice-cold pitcher of water and two empty glasses were on a table next to the chair. He poured one and offered it to her, with a sly smile. “Hydrate,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

She drank the water, then handed the glass back to him. He put it back on the table then made a come-here motion with his hand. “Lean down again.” Once she did, he slowly lowered the straps on her bra. His fingers played at the lace edges of her cups, watching the goosebumps pebble her skin before he reached around and unhooked it with a practiced hand. He trailed his hand over her panties, first her ass, then to the front. She was warm and wet, even through the material, and so he lingered there, rubbing gently until her head began to loll backward. He stopped. “Look at me.”

She tilted her head down, a smile on her lips. “You are enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said.

Another sharp slap on her ass. “You were told not to speak.” He moved his hand back between her legs, but didn’t resume his motions. “Maybe I should leave these on for a little while, see how how hot I can get you before they come off. Or maybe…” He slid one finger inside the edge of the panties, right between her legs. “Maybe you really want me to take them off. Is that what you want? You may answer.”

“Bastard,” she groaned. “Yes, that’s what I want. Please.”

“Oh, I like that,” he said, his finger still inside the panties but resolutely not inside her. Just touching, tracing the sensitive skin where thigh met groin. “Say it again.”

“Bastard,” she smiled. When he took his hand away, she narrowed her eyes for a second, then licked her lips, back in the game. “Please. Please, take them off, sir.”

Sir. That was way hotter than he expected it to be, and his erection was getting harder to ignore. But he persevered. He lowered the lace, his fingers pressing into her skin as he slid the panties down her legs. He pulled her between his legs, kissing her stomach for a moment, then pushed her away. “Stand before me again and close your eyes. Do not open them until I tell you to. Do not move until I tell you to. Yes? Nod if you understand me.”

She nodded and did as she was asked. Gabriel reached into the pitcher of water and took out an ice cube. He reached forward and began tracing circles on her stomach with it. Her muscles tensed and she shivered involuntarily, but she kept her eyes closed. He made slow designs, using his grace to keep the cube from melting in his hand so he didn’t have to stop to get another. Across her ribs, up to her shoulders and down her arms. Over her hips and down her legs, then up again. She gasped when he ran it across the back of her knee and again when he traced a line across her clavicles. Gasps were nice. But he was pretty sure they could be improved on.

She let out an audible yelp when he touched the ice to her nipple and drew circles around it; the yelp became a moan when he followed the cold of the ice with the warmth of his mouth. Her entire body tensed with the effort of keeping still. Inside of his head, he could hear her practically keening, and he smiled as he moved his mouth to her other chilled nipple. This was good. It could get better. So he moved the cube between her legs.

This time, her eyes snapped open and she jumped; he knew she would. It was just what he wanted. He snapped away the ice cube and leaned back in the chair, his expression cross. “You were told not to move.” Silently, he asked, Do you want to stop?

She shook her head. “Good,” he said. “But you are going to have to make up for doing wrong.”  
He considered a more slaps on the ass, but she must have anticipated it because he felt disapproval in his head. He couldn’t help a small smile. He should have known she’d try to top from the bottom. OK, fine. He had a perfectly fine Plan B.

“Even though you don’t deserve it, you may remove my clothes. You will do it slowly and you will . show me how much you like my skin while you do it. You may use your hands and your mouth to demonstrate your fondness but you are not to touch my cock until I decide you have earned it.”

It was her turn to smile. She leaned forward, her quick fingers working through the buttons of his shirt and removing it, revealing his t-shirt beneath, which left his arms mostly exposed. She dragged her fingernails down his arms before lifting one of his hands to her mouth and taking his index finger between her lips, licking and sucking, never taking her eyes off his. He was determined not to groan aloud, though it wasn’t easy. She was clearly determined to earn it.

His t-shirt was next; as soon as it was off, she licked a long, slow stripe down his sternum and over to his left nipple, her tongue flicking expertly. He inhaled deeply, fighting a moan, and he wondered if she felt this good when he did it to her. Good Dad, he hoped so.

She knelt between his legs in order to unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans. She just barely dipped her tongue into the waistband of his shorts before moving lower to get rid of his shoes so she could more easily remove his pants and underwear. She cheated a little, removing both basically at the same time, but he didn’t mind because fuck, she looked amazing kneeling between his legs and licking her lips while she waited patiently to be told what she knew he was going to tell her to do.

Why make her wait, he thought. And more importantly, why make himself wait. So he nodded said simply, “Yes, you may,” and leaned back to let her work her magic.

Fuck, it was magic. It was always magic, always good, but she was really pulling out all the stops this time. She had him cursing aloud in mere minutes, first in English, then a long string of Enochian through gritted teeth. He reached down to hold her hair away from her face so he could watch what she was doing; she maintained eye contact as she ran her tongue up along the length of his cock before sucking him fully into her mouth again. He fisted a hand in her hair and steeled himself not to move, to let her set and keep the pace, but he couldn’t keep his hips from bucking when it felt so dad-damn good.

He really didn’t want to stop her, but he knew if he didn’t, the rest of his plans were going to come to a rapid halt. He tapped her shoulder. “Stop. Stand up.” Once she did, he added, “Time to move this to the bedroom,” and snapped his fingers.

Once in their room, he pointed to the bed. “Lay on your back and put your hands above your head.”

Once she assumed the position he requested, he snapped up soft, strong silk rope and bound each of her wrists to the posts of the bed. “Too tight?” he asked.

She gave an experimental tug. “No.”

He smiled. “You are not to move unless I tell you to.”

“I understand,” she said.

“Good.” He got onto the bed and lay atop her, raising himself up with his arms so he could kiss her, his tongue deep in her mouth, then licking at her lips, then inside again. He made a sound in the back of his throat and put his hand on the back of her neck as he kissed her over and over again -- just kissing, nothing else. It was driving her absolutely crazy, which was just what he wanted.

He leaned up to look at her, tracing her kiss-swollen lips with his finger. “Tell me how you feel.”

“Impatient,” she said. “But good. God, so good.”

His smile was wicked. “Keep being my good girl and I promise, you’re going to feel a lot better than just ‘good.’” He put his hand over her breast, his fingers pinching her nipple, his thumb rubbing. This was what she liked -- stopping just short of pain, just like when he gripped her hair. Hard enough to get the nerves pinging, then soft, then hard again, ramping the sensitivity to the point where even the slightest, most innocent touch brought waves of pleasure through her entire body. He followed with tongue and teeth and suction, hand on one breast, mouth on another, alternating until she was moaning, almost whimpering.

He brought his head up to kiss her again. Her leg started to wrap around his hips; he pushed it down and gave her thigh a slap. “I told you not to move,” he said. “Do what I say, and nothing else.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Fuck, you’re good at this.”

He was kinda surprised himself, actually. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d played like this, but like everything else, it was different with her. And now it wasn’t about satisfying himself, though he was having a fantastic time. It was about seeing how far he could drive her, how good he could make her feel, before she -- or he -- lost control.

He nuzzled her face then drew her earlobe slowly into his mouth, giving it a little nip before bringing his lips close to her ear so he could murmur into her ear.. “I can feel your heart,” he said. “Beating so fast. I bet your blood is racing. And you want me to keep touching you, don’t you? Running my hands all over your body, laying on top of you so you can feel my skin on yours, so warm and close you don’t know where I end and you begin. And then I move move slowly down your body, using my mouth and my hands along the way. Your breasts, your stomach, your hips.” He reached his hand between her legs, stroking her, feeling how wet she was. “But that’s where you really want me, isn’t it? My tongue, finding every single spot that makes you moan.” His fingers demonstrated while he kept talking. “Outside, nice and slow, up, then down again, and inside. Licking and sucking, making you whimper, until I work my way back up again, just where you want me to be, and I use my teeth, and my tongue, until you come so hard, you scream my name. Is that what you want?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes, Gabriel, fuck, yes, sir. Please yes.”

“Such a good girl,” he whispered. “Now open your legs for me.” He moved down her body, putting her thighs on his shoulders and doing exactly what he said he was going to do. Licking. Sucking. Thrusting his tongue deep inside of her. Her entire body was tensed, and he could hear the creaking of the wood as she pulled against her bounds, trying hard not to move. He took his time, exploring every fold, listening for her breathing, the sounds she was making, and lingering at the spots that made her cry out. He kept at it until she was shaking, then slid two fingers inside of her, moving them slowly in and out as he moved his mouth up to find that tiny, rock-hard mound of flesh. He was careful, so careful, capturing it between his teeth while his tongue flicked fast and his fingers moved inside her. He slowed down, then sped up, mouth and his fingers pushing her harder and faster to the edge, working every sensitive spot until she screamed his name.

He came up to kiss her again; the way she licked her own taste from his lips was so fucking hot, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. But he wasn’t going to let her know that, and if he was right, she was ready for him to be where he wanted to be anyway. Better make sure, though. “Had enough, baby?” he asked.

“No, sir,” she said. “Never.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said. His voice was pitched low with desire. “Do you want me inside you now? I’m so ready to be there, so ready to feel you surrounding me, hot and tight. And so wet, especially now, after the way you just came for me. I want you to come again; I want to feel it, the way you get even tighter, the way you grip my cock. Tell me, Gigi. Does that sound good? Does that sound like something you want?”

“Yes.” She was sweating and breathless, with those dark eyes and her face flushed and gorgeous. “That is what I want. You are what I want, everything I want. Always. And now, please, now.” She stretched her neck to kiss him, to say against his mouth, “Oh god, archangel, please.”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Move with me.” He positioned himself between her legs and slipped in easily. He propped one of her thighs against his chest and started thrusting, his motions hard, fast, and hungry, his kisses rough. She met his every motion, both of them making sounds that were past words, just deep, gutteral growls. Her body arched, arms straining hard as her orgasm hit her strong and fast, clenching her every muscle and causing her to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood.

He didn’t care. He could heal anything she did to either of them. All that mattered was the feeling building in his groin as he drove himself into her. He tried last as long as he could, but when he felt her start to tighten again, he barely managed to hold on, and once he felt her convulse around him for a second time, it was all he could take.

“Gigi, fuck, yes.” He came with a shout, hard enough to shock him still for a long moment, conscious of nothing but the way she felt around him, under him. He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. He snapped his fingers to remove her bonds, wanting to feel her arms around him.

“Sugar,” she breathed. “Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

He lifted his head to smile at her. “Courts of Rome? 17th century France? The swinging 60s? I have no idea.”

“Well, whenever it was, I am glad.” She brushed her fingers through his sweaty hair. “Goddamn.”

“You liked it.” He was grinning from ear to ear. “You liked it on the bottom. Oh, I am good.”

“Yes you are, and yes, I did,” she agreed. “And tomorrow, so will you.”

THE END

 

  



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